Self-Destruction
by Atem no koibito
Summary: His mind was a battle zone. His purpose locked inside his heart. The cards to win were all in his hand! Yet, he was defeated. And he asks himself later, pondering the notion of regret, of when were his cards stolen and replaced with fakes? When was it that he was blindsided? When was it did he lose his way? Or, was it that he was lost all along, and just never got to see his way?


**This is something short that I've been working on for a few years. Finally got it done, so I hope you find it interesting.**

 **Enjoy!**

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Self-Destruction

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A storm like none other raged across the world many years ago. So long ago that he could no longer remember the amount of time that had passed since then. But he could vividly remember those days before it. He could remember the impending thunder that rolled through the dark, and the lightening that brightened the night sky.

He could remember the world that constantly looked cold, and felt utterly empty despite being filled.

He recalled his life when he was younger. Those days of playing in the streets under the hot sun, and returning home to parents who smiled although they shouldered the burden. But although their clothes were rags and their meals were sparse, he remembered being happy.

Until… They came.

They tore through his village. Chased everyone out of their homes, and lined them all up. And hiding from the side he could do nothing more than watch with dread, as the flesh of everyone he knew was turned into gold. Their blood traded for wealth. His family sacrificed for power until there was nothing left.

As the horses and the caravans departed, he scraped the remains, and sat infront of ninety-nine empty graves while the country that abandoned them celebrated their victory. And from the broken walls of the place he called home, vengeful spirits surrounded him, begging to show their killers no mercy. To avenge their darkened souls.

He got up on frail legs, and bravely covered his wounds. He hid and shut them deep within his heart, and scattered the memories that picked at the locks. He only held on to the pieces that mattered. The ones that would fuel the cold.

No panic or fear. Just madness grew near. It came and consumed his very mind. Eager, not reckless. Patient and silent. All of these he became to prepare for the fight.

That was the day his eyes full of innocence, finally turned hard. Pitch black and burning hot. Anyone who came close were sent running away, while he did every thing he could to reach the next day.

In the night he plotted his attack, and in the light, he carried them through. He robbed and he stole and he aimed to conquer the world.

With an army at his side and power like none other awaiting his order, he sought out the ruler, the murderer, obliterator. The one whose death would end the pain in his chest. The one the sun chose to bless over all of the rest.

He was so sure.

When he would see his blood splattered across the floor at his feet. And when he would hold that heart in his hands and see misery on the King's face… All the pain would just disappear. His family could finally get some rest once that power they stole was around his neck.

His plan was in motion. All the pieces were in place.

But what was it that went wrong?

That the day of the battle… he failed in his only fight.

All he had fought for was gone in a wink. And yet, even though those eyes so red were now dead, wasn't enough to bring him some piece of mind.

It was not him. His hands were not the one that made the kill. Those eyes in which he craved to see despair gazed at him fiercely, his successor's cry of victory reverberating through the air.

That battle was over. This was the end, he thought with spite. But death was nowhere in sight. He soon realised that fate had something else in store. Their lives were not finished yet.

As their souls disappeared into the darkness, he knew that they would meet again. His plan could still work. This day, was not the end.

For the monster within, time was something he had to lend.

Millenniums had passed. That much he knew. And as he waited with the darkness of the souls, a new plan slowly brewed. Another game he had set. And this time he would win. There would be no more regrets.

He re-entered the world just as he was before. With a face you can never forget, and hair as white as snow. But this time his eyes were so innocent and deep, that fooling the world was no longer a feat.

Patiently he waited, biding his time, waiting to face his enemy for the last, final, time. While the voice in his head urged him to keep pushing forward. To not give up 'til his enemy was dead. The voice that called out to him from the wreckage of that day, calling him closer, giving him a chance to get his way.

That was then. Here, now, drifting in the abyss… he wondered if that was his error. The failure at his center. His goal and vengeance nothing more than a step in the master plan formed by another.

When the time was right the final battle came with a cry. It was loud. Thunderous. Disastrous as before. But this round he held fate in his hand. Time trapped in a bottle slowly filling with sand. And his enemy sat before him with a glare on his face. Confused, and memories scattered like his was in the wind.

He would win. This time, he would win.

But…

…

But…

Why was vengeance so wrong for him? Why was it not even an option for him? Was he really nothing more than a tool and a doll? Where justice no longer mattered and where these souls in his head continued to battle for his heart?

Why did it have to end in such a way? Left battered and afraid, alone and cruelly betrayed. Unable to do nothing to stop the darkness that came and quietly stole even his name.

That was where he was left. Alone in the end. His days spent thinking over the choices he made. About the wrong that was done to him, and the one who should be blamed.

He realised his existence after all was nothing more than to be the vessel for the real evil. The evil that polluted his already broken soul, forcing fate to abandon him, and sealing his control a long time ago. His purpose of living, distorted beyond repair.

His light was long gone.

The darkness quiet as ever.

Perhaps this was the sign, that his spirit was done. Gone. Forever.

Death was inevitable. No amount of thought could ease that truth.

At the end of the road there was a fork to tread. The light, the dark, and the grey of what was done and said. And he gingerly walked the center line, unable to choose his way.

One day though, should you ever see him, try asking about his family. Ask him about his friends. Ask him about the horrors he'd seen. Ask him about the fiends in his head.

Maybe this time he would answer, and tell you they're long gone and dead. He'd tell you a friend is one he never had, and the horrors he's seen are buried deep within his head. As for the fiends, they're trapped behind that wall. One he begs you to pay no mind to at all.

For should you look at it, all will be lost. Your sanity will be taken. You'll suffer nothing but loss. And then, when there's nothing left, you'll simply self destruct.

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 **A little bit different, but I hope it was insightful. Just a few thoughts I had on Bakura's ending. Which I consider quite unfair. My attempt on making it right, and to show my love for this angry fluffball!**

 **Thank you for reading~ And do please tell me your thoughts. :)**


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